Auld Lang Syne
by rita hayworth
Summary: To Anne Shirley, New Years always seemed to be the most romantic and joyous time of the year. So why is that pesky, persistent Gilbert Blythe always around to ruin it? ON HIATUS.
1. 1876

**Auld Lang Syne**

by Brianna Faye

* * *

— **1876 —**

Gilbert Blythe looked around the quaint parlor of the Green Gables homestead with an intrigued eye. It was the first time he'd been to the idyllic farm since _she _had first appeared in his life, a perfect thunderstorm of carrots and broken slates. He was not even sure if he was wanted here, but his parents had made him come, and the thirteen-year-old boy felt he had no choice but to accompany them.

"Well, well, John Blythe."

Gilbert heard the voice of Marilla Cuthbert—world-weary and worn by age—as she made her way over towards his father and mother. If he wasn't mistaken, she almost sounded...surprised...that his family had shown up. Had they not been expected?

"You know I could never pass up a good New Year's Eve celebration, Marilla," John Blythe answered cordially, although they were edging further away from Marilla, who did not seem sorry to let them go. Gilbert idly wondered what that whole interaction had been about, but when he caught a glimpse of fiery red locks, he decided to think of it later.

"Gilbert, sweetheart," his mother said, her own hazel eyes staring in to his, "why don't you go over there and play with the other children?"

Gilbert, although he loved his mother dearly, wanted to stomp his foot and protest, to tell her obstinately that he was not a child—he was _thirteen_, for goodness sakes. But instead he smiled slightly and nodded before ambling over to the area of the parlor where he saw Anne Shirley talking to Diana Barry, all the while being surrounded by Ruby Gillis and Jane Andrews.

He watched as Anne spoke—he was too far away to hear her words—followed by the tinkling laughter of the three girls around her. His ears pricked up; he desperately wondered what Anne had said. Was it something about him? She never seemed to have anything pleasant to say about him.

"Gilbert!"

Gilbert turned around upon hearing Charlie Sloane's voice call his name. Charlie was practically running up to him—and _indoors_, as well—his bottle-eyes excited. Gilbert rolled his eyes playfully as his comrade reached his side.

"Gil—Gilbert," Charlie began excitedly. So excited, however, that his breathing was heavy and his voice raw. "I heard once—a long time ago, you see—you see, that at midnight you're s'posed to kiss the girl closest to you! D'you think Anne would want to kiss me?"

It was a well-known fact around the Avonlea schoolchildren that Charlie Sloane mooned over Anne Shirley something awful, although the poor boy would never admit it. Gilbert had always suspected it, and he knew Anne did as well—yet she never spurned the advances of the youngest Sloane boy; an action that made Gil slightly jealous.

Quelling some of the envious sentiment boiling in his stomach, Gilbert merely replied, "You're ridiculous, Charlie."

Charlie let out a long, resigned sigh. "I s'pose we're awf'ly young to be thinking about this—besides, I bet if I tried, she'd break a slate over my head."

Gilbert's eyes immediately narrowed. He did not like to think about the day Anne had come into his life...the very day she had broken her slate over his head. Why, all he'd wanted was to talk to her!

"Aw, come on, Gil," complained Charlie. "Can't you take a little joke? And that was a good one."

"It wasn't very funny to me," Gil admitted, crossing his arms over his chest begrudgingly.

"Maybe just a little peck," Charlie continued, ignoring the words of his friend. "Y'know, I'd go in quickly...so quickly Anne wouldn't even notice...and I'd give her a kiss on the cheek and run away. What d'you think, Gil?"

"I think you're ridiculous, Charlie."

"Are you telling me that you wouldn't want to kiss Anne Shirley, Gilbert?" Charlie inquired earnestly, his eyes wider than usual. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that Gilbert had been _dead gone_ on Anne ever since she had broken her slate over his head—perhaps even before that.

Gilbert's eyes grew as wide as possible, before he quickly caught himself and held his head high. "I most certainly would not," he told Charlie, and he imagined Anne would say the same thing if Diana or Jane or Ruby had asked her that very question.

Charlie didn't respond, but he knew, just by his companion's expression, that he had been right.

Gilbert Blythe was _dead gone_ on Anne Shirley.

**xXx  
**

"Oh, Anne," Diana Barry exclaimed, stealing glances at the front door. "The Blythes just arrived. Aren't you going to greet them?"

"I see no reason why I should do any such thing, Diana," Anne replied coolly, her nose beginning to rise in the air. After a moment's silence, Anne turned to face Diana, as well as Ruby Gillis and Jane Andrews. "But I could break a slate over his head as a New Year's gift."

Her three companions laughed along with Anne, and out of the corner of her grey-green eyes, Anne spotted Gilbert Blythe turn his head in her direction. She pretended that she had not noticed him.

"Oh, I'm so glad Gilbert is here." Ruby sighed dreamily, clasping her hands in her lap. "He's the most handsome boy in school, and my sister told me that when the clock strikes twelve on New Year's Eve, you're supposed to receive a kiss from the nearest boy. I hope Gilbert is that boy for me."

"I would rather die a thousand deaths than receive a kiss from our dear Mr. Blythe," was Anne's reaction to Ruby's rather romantic tale.

"You're so cruel, Anne," Jane said, always the sensible one of the group. Anne wasn't surprised; one must be sensible with such an unromantic name as _Jane_. "Gilbert's a nice boy."

"Anyhow," continued Ruby, "when twelve o'clock nears, I'm going to find Gilbert and stand as close as I possibly can to him. He'll give me a kiss if I have anything to say about it."

"Have you ever thought that there's more to life than boys, Ruby?" Anne asked, truly curious.

Ruby giggled and shook her head. "If there's a life without boys then I want nothing to do with it. What a boring life that would be. Oh—oh, Gilbert's going into the kitchen. I'm going to follow him.

So, without another word, Anne, Diana, and Jane watched as their friend turned and retreated to the kitchen. Anne sighed and turned her head towards the window. The stars were twinkling seductively at the young girl, and she wondered if they would look any differently when the new year came.

"Hello, Anne," Charlie Sloane greeted, disrupting Anne's train of thought. "How are you?"

Anne managed a small smile; she didn't particularly mind Charlie, but she preferred to be alone. "Oh, hello, Charlie." Anne stood up, ready to make her getaway. "I'm going to go outside."

"Why?"

"It's almost midnight, and I want to see if 1877 looks any different from 1876."

Charlie gave Anne a confused look. He shouldn't have been surprised; people were always talking about the many queer thoughts that lived underneath the surface of that red hair. He watched, his expression unchanging, as Anne stood up and sauntered away from him, her slender frame slipping through the back door of Green Gables.

Anne found her place beneath the Snow Queen, which was bare. The stars twinkled above the branches and Anne wondered once more if they, too, would look any different with the coming of 1877.

Anne sat for an hour, staring up at the midnight sky, before someone came out. She was so lost in her daydreams that she barely noticed—a common occurrence for Anne. Inside, the guests of Green Gables were bustling with excitement, as twelve o'clock was merely a minute away. The adults congregated in the parlor, while the children assembled in the kitchen. Ruby Gillis, however, was all over the house, searching for a missing Gilbert Blythe.

Anne noticed none of this; she knew midnight was nigh, and her anticipation increased. How would the sky react to this sudden change in the world?

Even from outside, Anne could hear the adults counting down to midnight—they started at ten and made their way down to nine, eight, seven, six...

Anne felt a presence by her side but she dared not look, fearing that it might be the one person she least wanted to spend the New Year with.

Five, four, three...

Anne began breathing more quickly; the figure beside her had yet to move, and she wondered if she even wanted them to movie. What would they—_he_, as Anne had a sneaking suspicion of who it was—do when the clock struck twelve?

Two..._one_.

Anne felt a warmth on her cheeks, and the boy came closer, pressing his soft lips to Anne's cheek. Her entire face suddenly became as red as her hair, and she turned to face the perpetrator.

Her grey eyes clashed with hazel ones, as she was met with the handsomest face in the entire Avonlea school. She hoped she wore an expression of repulsion, but for some reason, Anne knew that her expression was one of shock, surprise.

"Happy New Year, Anne," Gilbert whispered, his boyish voice soft, as he gazed upon Anne's stunned face.

Gilbert chose to stand up then, while Anne remained in her place beneath the branches of the Snow Queen. She watched his silhouette disappear, her expression remaining the same, until she looked upon the stars.

They remained the same, but Anne could not help but feel that something inside of her had changed in the moments between 1876 and 1877.

**xXx**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here's my first Anne/Gil fic in a long time...it's going to be multi-chaptered, each one centered around a different New Years in Anne and Gilbert's life. According to certain events throughout the Anne series, Anne would have been eleven in 1876, and that would have been her first year at Green Gables. So this is before the Christmas Ball, and after the slate-breaking. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!


	2. 1880

**Auld Lang Sine**

by Brianna Faye

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter takes place on New Year's Eve, 1880, when Anne would be fifteen. This is two years after Gilbert rescues Anne from nearly drowning as the Lady of Shalott. She'd be home for the holidays from Queen's, and her old animosity towards Gilbert would be slowly fading away. I hope you enjoy! And thank you so much for the reviews on the first chapter, I'm glad you all enjoyed it! Oh, and by the way, yesterday was L.M. Montgomery's 136th birthday! :D

* * *

— **1880 —**

Anne Shirley sighed, settling into the comfortable, plush parlor couch of the Barry house. The Barrys were to be hosting an extravagant New Year's Eve get-together, and Anne had promised Diana that she would help decorate—on one condition. There wasn't to be any mistletoe, whatsoever, on the premises. One cheek-kiss was enough for Anne, and she abhorred the thought of another.

For the past four New Year's, whenever Anne had found that she was in company of a certain Gilbert Blythe, she would flee whatever room she was in and find her way outside, where she could take a leisurely stroll down Lover's Lane and watch the world as the years turned. Anne had, of course, told no one of what had happened during her first New Year's at Green Gables; after it had happened, she had been disgusted with herself for days, and she vowed that she was never even grace Gilbert Blythe with a glance. No, for the next four years, Anne had taken extra pains to avoid Mr. Blythe.

But everyone was older now—_Anne_ was older. She fancied herself to be elegant and mature, now that she was a Queen's girl. She even told herself that she did not get jealous when she would hear that Gilbert Blythe carried Ruby Gillis' books at Queen's—although Anne had a hard time explaining that queer feeling building up in her stomach whenever she would spy them together. _After all, _Anne thought scornfully, _what would Gil see in a girl like Ruby?_

Anne hated herself when she thought such unholy thoughts as those; but what could she do? She had already let down her arms when it came to Gilbert—she didn't hate him with a passion of a thousand suns—and instead he chose to walk home with Ruby Gillis. Why, all she ever talked about with Anne was how excruciatingly long her line of beaux would be when she became a lady. Anne—although she felt extremely retched for thinking such things—couldn't help but think that Gilbert would much rather prefer brains to beauty.

With a shake of her red head, Anne banished the thoughts from her mind. After all, it was New Year's Eve, and she was supposed to helping her bosom friend—and she was doing a lackluster job of it, as well.

"Diana," Anne called, her eyes darting around the room, searching for her raven-haired companion. When Diana finally sashayed down the stairs, Anne asked. "Would you like me to cook anything? I'm afraid I get dreadfully distracted...but if you're there to help me, maybe I can keep my imagination in check."

"Oh, you don't have to, Anne." Diana gave Anne a soft smile. "I can tell you're distracted. You aren't looking that well, either. Maybe you should go back to Green Gables and get some rest."

"I'll be fine, dearest Diana," Anne reassured her friend. "I suppose I'm just anxious for the party. It's been awhile since all of us Avonlea folk have been together."

Diana gave her friend a reassuring smile; she wasn't blind, after all. She knew her friend was still sore over Gilbert, and Ruby Gillis. She knew Anne was too proud to admit it, and she was too proud to stay in a room with the two of them.

"I suppose Ruby will finally get her New Year's kiss from Gilbert," Anne continued, a strange haze overtaking her grey-green eyes. "At least on the cheek. It wouldn't be very proper for him to kiss her on the lips."

"Or maybe Gilbert will want to kiss someone else..." Diana let her knowing eyes meet Anne's for a moment, before breaking the contact.

"I think Gilbert is really too invested in his schoolwork to really get involved in the affairs of us girls," Anne rationalized, her brow furrowing. "Oh, well. I think I'll go for a stroll on Lover's Lane near midnight. It's so peaceful."

"You've been doing that for the past four years, Anne," Diana pointed out, her voice kind. "You should stay indoors with us for once. I'm sure Charlie wouldn't mind."

Anne laughed gaily, her voice bouncing off the papered walls of the Barry homestead. Diana joined in, as well, laughing along with her friend. "Oh, Anne," she sighed, "I'm glad you've cheered up. Tonight won't be that bad."

Anne smiled at her friend, brightening up the old room. "Perhaps it won't," she murmured.

**xXx**

Anne analyzed every single person standing in the Barry parlor with a calculating eye as she took a bate of the delicious pastries Mrs. Barry had prepared for everyone. She was pleased to find that Gilbert Blythe had yet to show up, although Ruby Gillis was one of the occupants in the room, chatting casually with Jane Andrews.

It was nearing ten, and the people in the room were becoming abuzz with excitement. Anne remembered the spectacular feeling from last New Year's—and the four before that. But for some reason, she couldn't feel it. It was peculiar, odd—her excitement seemed to have disappeared along with Gilbert. Just as the strange thought crossed her mind, there was a harsh knock on the door.

"Oh, I'll get it," Diana exclaimed, playing a perfect role as the hostess.

When she opened the door, Gilbert stepped in, a wide smile on his handsome face. He only seemed to get more excruciatingly handsome as the years passed, Anne noticed sadly.

"Diana!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his old friend. "Sorry that I'm late. I had some things to attend to with my parents."

Diana returned his warm welcome with a graceful, friendly smile playing on her pink lips. When the two companions finished talking, Gilbert turned around, his hazel eyes searching the room. His eyes quickly met Anne's grey-green ones. Feeling an unforgiving blush forming in her cheeks, Anne quickly looked away. When she look back at Gilbert, she found him across the room, talking to Ruby Gillis. _Of all the things to do!_ Anne scorned beneath her red locks.

Jane Andrews was with them, as well, but she quickly broke away from the group and made her way to Anne.

"Oh, Anne." Jane let out a tired sigh as she reached her redheaded comrade. "I don't understand why they're always together."

Anne turned her eyes back to Gilbert, who was laughing at something Ruby said. _Because she has blonde hair and pretty eyes,_ she thought scornfully.

"Another question to ponder," came Anne's ambiguous response. Jane looked at her queerly; why was Anne's attitude so aloof?

"But I shouldn't think she was the sort of girl Gilbert would like," whispered Jane to Anne.* Anne herself had thought these very words, but she couldn't voice them like Jane had.

"Oh, Jane," said Anne. "You shouldn't talk like that. Ruby's our friend...and if she ends up marrying Gil one day, we'll just have to accept it."

"I know, I know." Jane let out another sigh, this one long. "It's just that I always thought Gilbert would like someone more like you, Anne."

Anne began coughing harshly, choking on her pastry in surprise; had Jane really dared to say such a scandalous thing? Her coughs racked her body and exploded up through her throat and mouth and—_oh_, why wouldn't they stop?

Suddenly, Anne felt a sharp hand on her back, slapping her gently. The pastry loosened from inside her throat, and her coughing began to slow down, one cough by one. When the entire horrid affair was over, she turned to thank her savior.

Gilbert Blythe looked back at her with his hazel eyes, as though he was looking straight into her soul.

"Th—thank you, Mr. Blythe." Anne lifted her head up, riding her imaginary white horse.

Gilbert's face remained expressionless, as it often did when he conversed with Anne—which rarely. "It was no problem, Anne," he told her in earnest.

Ruby joined Gilbert's side not a moment later. "Anne!" she exclaimed dramatically. "I thought you were going to die!" Turning to Gilbert, she said, "That was so good of you, Gil."

Gilbert nodded, but kept his eyes on Anne. "This isn't the first time I've had to rescue Anne."

"I remember," Ruby recollected. "Oh, Anne, you'll be friends with him now, won't you? He's saved you twice now."

"A coughing fit is hardly a life or death matter," Anne responded, her old animosity towards Gilbert coming back with a vengeance. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a stroll down by Lover's Lane and get some fresh air."

Gilbert watched Anne leave, her red hair a blur as she scrambled to exit the Barry house. He wondered what he had done to offend her—he couldn't think of a single instance where he might have even come close to affronting the red-haired girl.

"Excuse me, Ruby," he told the blonde, his voice soft. "I'm going to go for a stroll, too. I won't be gone long."

Ruby nodded her head and smiled as Gilbert left the house. She knew where he was going; it was no secret that wherever Anne was, Gilbert wanted to be, although he tried hard to hide it.

**xXx**

The cool air felt marvelous on Anne's red, flushed face. She had made a fool of herself in the Barry house, only to have Mr. Blythe come to her rescue. Although her disdain for him had lessened into a driving competition over the past few years, she couldn't stand the thought that Mr. Blythe had once again saved her in an awkward situation. A situation that he had inadvertently caused.

Anne turned her gaze upwards, towards the glittering stars, as she did every New Year's Eve. In them she found comfort and solace, and beneath them she could more easily imagine that she was Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald.

She soon turned her starry gaze towards the Lake of Shining Waters—as she walked down the hill of Orchard Slope, she had a nearly perfect view of the beautiful body of water. But just as Anne became lost in her thoughts, she heard footsteps—someone was running behind her. Turning around, she found that it was her least favorite person...Gilbert Blythe. She quickly turned her head back, as though it hurt her eyes to look at him.

"Anne," he called, lithely jogging his way towards Anne's side. Anne turned her nose up at him. "Anne, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You did no such thing, Mr. Blythe," Anne replied, her voice cold. "You have no reason to apologize."

Gilbert let out a deprecating chuckle. "No, I suppose I don't. But for some reason I keep apologizing to you, and for some reason you keep denying me. I suppose it's high time I stopped."

Anne spared a glance at the curly-haired, maturing boy. "Good," was all she told him.

Anne expected the pesky boy to leave, but he continued to stand there, his gaze boring into her.

After a moment, Anne said, "You should go, Mr. Blythe. It's past midnight now, and I'm sure some _people_ are missing your company."

"And you don't think anyone will miss your company?"

Anne turned around, her whole body facing Gilbert. "Why should they?" she asked harshly.

Gilbert just shook his head, a small smile toying at the ends of lips. He didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn around and back to the Barry house. But he threw one last, longing glance over his shoulder, and said—

"Happy New Year, Anne."

Anne cast her gaze towards her feet, which were shuffling together in awkwardness. "Happy New Year, Gil," she murmured, but he was too far away to hear her.

Anne sighed and once again turned towards the sky. Now older and more mature, Anne was beginning to wonder why she insisted to keep up her old childhood feud with Gilbert Blythe. Maybe—sometime soon—she would be able to bury the proverbial hatchet and become good chums with Gilbert.

Anne shook her head. She didn't like to think of things that weren't ever going to come true.

**xXx**


	3. 1881

**Auld Lang Sine**

by Brianna Faye

* * *

— **1881 —**

Gilbert stood idly outside of the Green Gables gate. Even from a short distance, he could hear a ruckus from indoors. He wondered what was going on; Davy must have gotten himself into some mischievous trouble again. Davy was a roguish lad if Gilbert had ever met one.

He wondered if he should go and knock on the door. If there was something wrong in there, it was likely that Marilla and Anne would be too busy to converse with Gilbert. So, he decided resolutely to turn around and go back towards the Blythe homestead.

Suddenly, there was a slam of a door, and Anne came bounding out, a whirlwind of red hair and blue gingham. She was in such a fit that she did not even notice Gilbert standing at the side of the road.

"Anne?" Gilbert called out, speeding to catch up with the feisty redhead. She turned around upon hearing her name exclaimed; an expression of utter surprise adorned her freckled face. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, Gil," Anne wailed miserably, hiding her face beneath her slender hands, "I invited Paul and Mr. Irving over for an early New Year's supper, and Davy is being an...an absolute _heathen_! I feel so excruciatingly _horrible_ for storming out on them like that, as well! And I was positively dreadful to Davy—and he didn't even deserve it. This is turning into such a Jonah New Years, Gilbert."

Gilbert couldn't help the small, devilish smile that fell onto his lips when he heard Anne's story. "Did you say," he began, "that Davy was an absolute heathen?"

Anne groaned and closed her eyes. "I did. Oh, isn't this just _perfect_. Marilla used to say I was a heathen, too, and I abhorred it. Now I'm doing the exact same thing to poor little Davy!"

"Why don't we go back inside," Gilbert suggested, cupping Anne's delicate elbow in his own calloused hand. "We can't keep your guests waiting."

Anne opened her eyes and looked at Gilbert, the expression of unreserved surprise written clearly on her face. "Did you say 'we', Gil?" Anne asked hopefully. Gilbert nodded, unsure of how to answer. "Oh, that would be lovely! I wanted to invite you to the dinner already, Gil, but I didn't want the Irvings to think I was would a horrible hostess if I invited another person to dinner. But now this is perfect!"

Gilbert beamed, exceedingly overjoyed that Anne was happy to have him for dinner. And, hopefully he could have a man-to-man conversation with the aforementioned boy heathen to straighten the chaotic situation out.

The house had calmed down exceedingly by the time they reached it, although there was an air of unspoken anger apprehension surrounding it. The parlor was unusually empty when the two companions entered it, causing Anne to let out a tired sigh.

"Oh, I suppose Davy's run outside. The Irvings are probably in the dining room with Marilla. I should probably find Davy first...but I shouldn't leave the Irvings waiting. Oh, if only Davy could have kept his mouth shut and not teased Paul so..."

"You go talk to the Irvings," suggested Gilbert. "I'll go and find Davy."

Anne gave Gil a sweet, thankful smile. "Thank you, Gil. This really means a lot," Anne said, expressing her gratitude, but her smile was enough. He'd been waiting five long years for her to smile at him like that, and now she finally had.

It wasn't long before Gilbert had found himself searching the fields of Green Gables, searching for that impish rapscallion Davy Keith. Soon, he saw a little boy's head bobbing up and down through the fields, and Gilbert began walking steadily towards it.

"Davy," he called, walking closer to the boy, "Anne wants you to go back inside and finish eating dinner with Irvings."

"'s that you, Gil?" Davy stood up, and Gilbert noticed that his tiny face was shining with tears. When he saw Gil, he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "Tell Anne that I ain't eating with that Paul Irving."

"Why not?" Gilbert asked softly, his voice understanding, as he crouched down to Davy's level. "Anne will be disappointed."

"I know," came Davy's sullen response. "But it's 'cause she gives all her attention to Paul Irving when he's 'round, and Dora and me get none."

Gilbert felt for the poor boy, that was certain; for years he had known what it was like for Anne to bequeath her attention on everyone but him.

"Have you talked to Anne about it?"

Davy shook his head slowly, causing his unkempt hair to bounce along with him. "No. But how am I s'posed to get her attention if all of it's focused on Paul Irving?"

Gilbert mulled over Davy's statement for a long moment, before coming up with a suitable solution. "How about this—if Anne apologizes to you _and_ promises that she won't make you feel left out, will you apologize to the Irvings for being rude?"

"Do s'pose Anne'll apologize to me?"

"I _know _Anne will apologize to you, Davy," Gilbert reassured the young boy, whose expression had already brightened considerably. "She already feels bad about what happened."

"Oh, alright," Davy acquiesced, "I'll go and apologize to the Irvings. Will you be there, Gil?"

"Of course," replied Gilbert, a wide smile gracing his lips. "Just wait a moment once we get into the house. I want to speak with Anne very quickly."

Davy nodded, and together the two of them strode back to the gabled household, ready to face the New Year with their chins raised high. Anne greeted them, her hands clasped tightly together, when they walked through the back door.

"Oh, Davy," she exclaimed dramatically, pulling him into a consuming embrace. Gilbert smiled at the sweet interaction. "I'm so sorry, dear. Can you ever forgive me?"

Davy pulled back from Anne's embrace to examine her face with tiny, calculating eyes. His own face then broke out into a wide smile, and he returned her hug in full-force. "Of course," he replied joyfully.

When they parted from one another's embrace, Gilbert cleared his throat. "Why don't you go down and sit at the dinner table, Davy," he suggest, his hazel eyes travelling towards the door. "I want to speak to Anne for a moment."

Davy frowned; he did not like being told what to do, nor did he want to leave Anne alone with some boy. But he complied, and retreated towards the dining room, albeit sullenly without Anne.

"Thank you, Gil." Anne smile was wide and grateful, and it was the thank-you Gilbert had really wanted. "I don't know what I would've done without you. You'll stay for dinner now, won't you?"

Gilbert paused, pretending to consider her question and come up with a suitable answer, although he already knew what he would say. "Alright," he agreed finally. "But make sure you give some proper attention to Davy and Dora. That's why Davy was in such a terrible fit."

Anne nodded. "I thought so," she told him earnestly. "Davy hasn't like Paul since he arrived at Green Gables. Anyhow, let's go eat dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Lynde are supposed to stop by later, as well."

Gilbert smiled at her, choosing not to respond. Together they walked towards the dining room, where everyone was waiting for them. Davy had saved a special seat for Gilbert; it wasn't next to Anne, of course—Davy was seated next to her—but it was right next to him. Gilbert sat down at the table, feeling for once that he was part of the family.

**xXx**

Anne sighed and seated herself comfortably in one of the many chairs of the Green Gables parlor. The sun had set at the beginning of the hour, creating a fairy-like pink hue that spread across all of Prince Edward Island.

Gilbert sat down in a chair opposite Anne. He, too, was admiring the night, but for much different reasons. It was the first New Year's Eve that Anne didn't have anger flashing in her eyes when someone mentioned her name, and Gilbert relished the fact.

"How is it," Anne said, her voice soft and pensive, "that no matter where we are or who we're with, the two of us always seem to spend New Year's Eve together?"

Gilbert shrugged; he didn't dare answer the question, for fear of revealing his own surreptitious feelings.

Anne turned to look at Gilbert. Her grey-green eyes were sparkling, as though she were perfectly, incandescently happy at the moment. "Do you have any New Year's resolutions, Gil?"

Gilbert shook his head. "No-o. There's no need for any. I used to resolve the same thing every New Year's, but now there's no need for it. What about you, Anne?"

"I used to say that I would become a beautiful girl with nut-brown hair and starry violet eyes. That was all I could really think of, after Marilla and Matthew adopted me."

Both Gilbert and Anne fell into a pensive silence. It was the first New Year's since Anne had come to Green Gables that Matthew Cuthbert had not been around, with his calming presence. Anne was affected by the fact, even if she didn't show it, and Gilbert reached out and cupped his hand on the surface of Anne's soft, slender one.

"It was so different," Anne admitted softly. "Spending Christmas without Matthew. I remember, my second Christmas here, Matthew bought me this splendid brown gloria dress with puffed sleeves. It was so gorgeous. Do you remember that, Gil?"

Gilbert chuckled slightly. "How could I forget?" was his response. "You wore that to concert at the schoolhouse."

Indeed, how could Gilbert forget? Anne was a like a beautiful redheaded fairy as she presented her recitations in front of the crowd. And afterwards, when she walked off the stage, one of the roses in her carrot-colored hair had fallen onto the wooden planks of the floor. Gilbert had picked it up slowly and gingerly, thinking it would be the closest he would ever get to Anne Shirley.

"Oh, yes. We both went up and did our recitations. Diana said...never mind."

Gilbert decided to think nothing of her comment. "Where is Diana, anyhow?"

"She went up to Charlottetown with her family for the holidays. It's my first New Year's without her, and I thought it was going to be positively dreadful, but it isn't—not really."

"This New Year's has been pretty good. Wouldn't you say so, Anne?" Gilbert asked, his voice soft and earnest.

"I thought it was going to be a horrible New Year's at first," Anne admitted begrudgingly. "You know that. But it's been nearly a perfect evening. Just right now, it's so splendidly peaceful that I can't find any quarrels with the evening. I know I'm going to sleep well tonight."

"Me, too," Gilbert told her, standing up out of his chair, his eyes glancing at the clock sadly. "I'm afraid I have to go home, Anne. My parents were expecting me at seven."

"Of course." Anne stood up and quickly fetched Gilbert's hat, handing it to him with a smile. "Happy New Year, Gil."

"You too, Anne. Happy New Year."

Gilbert gave Anne one last smile before he walked out the door. His smile did not falter from his lips during his entire walk back to the Blythe homestead, and there was an unusual spring in his step which was not there prior to dinner at Green Gables.

When he reached his home, he went immediately to his room. There was a tiny bookshelf next his bed, and he quickly and easily pulled out one of the hardbound books. Flipping it open, he found a tiny rose.

He remembered how he'd felt when he picked it up—dismal and hopeless that he and Anne would ever be friends—and now they perfect chums and rightfully so. Gilbert slowly placed the tiny rose back in its place, between the interstices of the pages, and then walked out of his room to greet his parents, a contented smile still playing on his lips.

**xXx**

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Author's Note: **Thank y'all for the reviews! They seriously make my day. I'm so tired right now because I just got back from my school's football game (WE'RE GOING TO STATE! LA HERE I COME!) and I'm running on negative hours of sleep. Anyways, this was my favorite chapter to write because I absolutely adore Davy, and I adore Gil, so it was super fun to write them together. And I'm rambling now so I'll stop. BUT GAH I'M SO EXCITED FOR LA.**  
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	4. 1884

**Auld Lang Sine**

by Brianna Faye

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— **1884 —**

_New Year's Day, 1884_

Jane left in the morning. She had spent the New Year's eve over at Green Gables with Anne, and even _proposed_ to Anne on behalf of her brother, Billy. The thought had disgusted Anne at first, the whole grotesque manner of it all. Jane's nature suddenly became cold—almost as if Jane was offended that Anne would refuse her brother's bizarre proposal. Anne almost laughed in disbelief; her marrying Billy Andrews? Why, that would be even more odd than marrying someone like Gilbert!

But Anne's first proposal also came with the harsh sting of reality. Anne had felt as though Jane was in a hurry to leave, after the whole affair the night before. It seemed as though something had been irrevocably changed in their friendship, and although she and Jane had never been bosom friends, she would miss that comradeship dearly, until it decided to return to her.

Breakfast was a pleasant affair; Marilla, Mrs. Lynde, and especially the twins, were delighted that Anne was once again back at Green Gables for the holidays. Marilla even went so far as to cook Anne's favorite meal for breakfast and make some splendid raspberry cordial—although Anne had vowed long ago that she would never touch the cursed drink.

Just as the inhabitants of Green Gables finished eating their breakfast, there was a light, resounding knock on the door. Mrs. Lynde stood up instantly, staring at the unopened door.

"Well, I think I will get the door," Mrs. Lynde announced, although none of the other occupants of the room were surprised. Mrs. Lynde just had to be the first to _everything_. Anne smiled to herself as Mrs. Lynde waddled out of the kitchen and into the parlor. Faintly, Anne could hear the opening of the door, and then Mrs. Lynde's surprised, gregarious voice.

"Why, Gilbert!" she exclaimed, letting the handsome twenty-one-year-old into the household. "What a pleasant surprise. Are you here to see Anne?"

Gilbert chuckled good-naturedly at Mrs. Lynde's inquisitive, gossipy tone. "Well, I'd like to wish a Happy New Year to the whole household, not just Anne. If you'll allow me to, that is."

Mrs. Lynde smiled widely at the young man, shuffling him into the kitchen. "Of course I will. Anne's in the kitchen, finishing up her dinner. You can have some as well, Gil. Marilla won't mind."

Gilbert let out another polite chuckle as he entered the kitchen. A real smile immediately graced his lips as his eyes fell upon Anne, who was positively radiant in a simple, practical green ensemble.

"Hello, Gil," Anne greeted, her voice cheerful, as she stood up from her seat.

"Hello, Anne," he replied, his hazel eyes dancing. Turning to Marilla, he said, "Happy New Year, Miss Cuthbert. I'm sorry to barge in like this. I hope you don't mind."

Marilla smiled slightly, her gaze travelling in between Gilbert and Anne. His admiring gaze was not lost on the aging spinster. "It's alright, Gilbert," she told him. "If you'd given us warning, I would have set out an extra plate for you."

"Oh, it's alright. I've already eaten with my family, and I just wanted to stop by and wish you all a happy New Year."

Anne smiled; she was glad to have such a considerate chum as Gil. She couldn't fathom the idea of any other of her friends—with the lone exception of Diana—who would go out of their way on a cold winter's morning just to bring tidings of the New Year.

Gilbert turned to face Anne once more. "Anne, I was...wondering if you'd like to go for a walk down the lane?"

"Of course," Anne agreed, standing up from her seat. "Snow came last night while I was with Jane, and I desperately wanted to go out and gaze at it, but I wasn't positive if Jane had the same aspirations. Why don't you wait in the parlor, Gil? I just need to fetch my hat and coat and I'll be ready."

Gilbert, of course, agreed, and waited in the parlor while Anne retrieved her hat and coat. "I'm all ready," Anne announced, as she bounded into the parlor, where Gil was patiently waiting for her return. He smiled upon seeing her, opening the door like a gentleman as they walked out into the white-washed streets of Avonlea. Anne could faintly hear Mrs. Lynde muttering something to Marilla about Providence as the two friends exited Green Gables, but she chose to ignore those words with a shake of her red head.

"It's all so beautiful," Anne breathed as they strolled down the lane. "I absolutely adore it when the snow falls, because it makes up for the utter lack of blossoms on the Snow Queen. And it adds such a beauty and elegance to Avonlea...not that it wasn't beautiful already."

"Yes," Gilbert agreed softly, although Anne had a sneaking suspicion that he was thinking about something entirely different. He had been like this for months, ever since Lavendar Lewis had married Stephan Irving underneath the heat of the August sun. Anne dreaded these moments; Gilbert seemed to change—almost before her eyes—from a childhood chum, with whom she could laugh and joke, to a suitor with romantic aspirations. Desperate to change the awkward atmosphere, Anne blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

"Billy Andrews proposed to me last night!"

She regretted it almost instantly; the night before, the redheaded young woman had decided that she would absolutely die of shame if anyone found out about Billy Andrews' roundabout way of proposing to women—and thinking Nettie Blewett just as good as she!

Gilbert laughed at Anne's startling revelation—never before had he considered quiet, bumbling, round-faced Billy Andrews a competitor for Anne's affections. "You don't say," he replied, highly amused by the whole situation.

Anne buried her face, now as red as her hair, into her hands. "Oh, it was so embarrassing," she wailed dismally, her voice muffled by her slender hands. "He had _Jane_ do it for him."

"That does sound like Billy Andrews," Gil agreed, a teasing smile still placed on his lips—although he knew Anne absolutely abhorred it when he teased her. "Has Rachel Lynde found out?"

Anne showed her face once more. "No, and thank goodness." She let out a relieved sigh. "If she had, all of Avonlea would now about before noontime. Oh, but this is horrible. I made a vow that I wouldn't tell anyone—and now I've gone and told you about it!"

"It isn't _that_ embarrassing, Anne."

"Oh, no, it's not so much the fact that he had Jane do it for him," Anne admitted. "But Jane said that if I refused, he would go on and ask Nettie Blewett! I know I sound awfully vain right now, Gil, but I can't help it! I'd like to think that I'm somewhat better than Nettie Blewett—even if I am an orphan with dreadfully red hair."

Gilbert let out another chuckle—Anne had just listed two perfectly good reasons of why he adored her, although he would never admit it aloud. "If it means anything to you, Anne," he began quietly, his deep voice soft, "I think you're much better than Nettie Blewett."

Anne smiled at Gil, ignoring the obvious suitor tones in his voice. "But you mustn't tell anyone about this, Gil," she warned ominously. "I promised Jane that I wouldn't mention this to a soul and now I've gone and broken that promise."

"You have my word of honor that I won't tell anyone."

Anne raised a skeptical eyebrow at the tall young man. "Wild horses couldn't drag it from you?" she asked doubtfully.

Gilbert nodded in assurance. "Wild horses couldn't drag it from me," he concluded.

Anne smiled. "I suppose now that I've told someone, I can have a good laugh about it. This proposal explains a lot, really."

"Oh, really?" Gilbert asked, his tone light. "Like what, Anne?"

"Why Billy insisted that I ride in the front of his buggy with him to the hotel concert four years ago," Anne told him, chuckling as she recalled the uncomfortable memory. It was cushioned, however, by the fact that she had been encored at that very same concert.

"I remember that concert," Gilbert recalled. "You were excellent at your recitation of 'The Maiden's Vow', and the crowd encored you. Including myself."

"I don't know why you did," Anne revealed. "I was such a silly goose back then...and a brat! But if I'm being honest, it was actually the fact that you were in the audience that helped me recite. I wanted to best you in everything, and I knew I couldn't fail with you watching. I suppose I owe you some thanks, Mr. Blythe."

Gilbert shrugged modestly—although he was celebrating on the inside that the thought of him had helped Anne do her utmost best at that hotel concert. "A simple 'Happy New Year,' will suffice, though."

Anne chuckled, her grey-green eyes shining as she turned and wished Gilbert a happy New Year.

"Happy New Year, Anne," he replied, smiling back at the young woman before him. A million thoughts were racing through his brunette head as he replied. For a moment he thought about the future...what would be in store for him and Anne as they forged their paths through the coming years at Redmond. And, for some reason, he couldn't imagine them going through those next four years without each other.

"I suppose the New Year has turned out pretty well, even with that grotesque proposal," Anne concluded. "It helps that I've had someone to laugh the matter off with. When it first happened, I wanted so badly to laugh it off with someone, but I couldn't do it with Jane, of course, and Diana really tells Fred everything now."

"Ah, yes." Gilbert sighed contentedly. "Diana Barry and Fred Wright. When do you suppose they'll get married, Anne?"

Anne felt a sudden contempt for Fred boil up in the pits of her stomach. "I don't know. I try not to talk about things like marriage and weddings with Diana."

Gilbert laughed; the old Anne was coming back with a vengeance. Here she was, standing with him at age nineteen, and still trying to hold on to the fraying fragments of her aging childhood. Gilbert, however, wisely said no more.

"I suppose I should be going back to Green Gables now," Anne told Gil, sighing resignedly. "I can't be gone too long, or Mrs. Lynde will feel the need to give me her two cents—and that's some money I _don't_ need."

"Alright," Gil replied. "Happy New Year, Anne."

Anne smiled; he'd already wished her one before. "Happy New Year, Gil," she told him politely.

As she walked away, Anne realized that wishing her old rival and current friend, Gilbert Blythe, a happy New Year was become somewhat of a ritual, and one she didn't particularly mind, either.

**xXx**

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Author's Note: **We've finally reached Anne of the Island. It's my favorite book in the series, for obvious reasons ;) I want to thank all of you for the fabulous reviews. Also, I love _constructive _cristism, so if you see anything that doesn't fit - or a grammatical/spelling error, as I haven't really edited this chapter - just drop a review and tell me!

**xXx**


	5. 1886

**Auld Lang Sine**

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— **1886 —**

Roy had sent roses. A beautiful, blood red, stunning bouquet of roses. The ruby hue glared at Anne from across the room, as she stared at the bouquet in a stunned silence.

Since meeting Roy Gardner on that fateful, rain-filled day, he'd sent Anne a parcel of a dozen roses _at least_ once a week. At first, Anne had adored the attention—she even craved it—but now she was almost wary of the foreboding weekly gift. It was queer; Anne herself was not wont to admit that she was falling for the melancholy Roy Gardner, with his inscrutable gaze and magnificent, dark looks.

But something was amiss. As the New Year came closer, Anne felt an aching gain in her stomach whenever she received the roses. And now, as she returned once more to spend the winter vacation at Green Gables, the ache was more fierce than ever—especially as she gazed upon the empty table space where she used to place the tiny parcel of Lilies of the Valley, which Gilbert used to give her.

It was ridiculous, Anne knew that. She'd been swept off her feet by enigmatic Roy Gardner, and she wasn't afraid to make it known. Roy was everything Anne had wanted in her dream man. Still, she had only known him for a little over a month, whereas she had known Gilbert for nine long, tumultuous years.

It was a queer feeling, being back in Avonlea without her faithful chum Gilbert by her side. He had opted to take a short job with the _Daily News_, just as he had over the summer. Anne had the aching feeling that he was doing it simply to avoid her—and then she would tell herself that Gilbert was an ambitious, sensible young man, and there was no possibility of him abandoning Avonlea simply because she rejected his proposal.

And still, all throughout the Christmas holidays and leading up to 1886, that pesky, persistent doubt kept filling her redheaded brain. Anne couldn't help but feel—if Gilbert was, indeed, staying away from their beloved Avonlea because of her—she hand to do something. She would never, ever forgive herself if her simple rejection sent Gilbert into a lifelong sorrow.

Anne sighed; if only Gilbert were in town—she could simply go to his house and explain to him that she really wasn't anything special—there would be other girls...no. For some reason, it pained Anne to imagine herself saying such a thing. But, perhaps, if she couldn't say it...

Anne quickly grabbed a pencil and thin sheet of paper. She had to write the letter now, before she could change her mind.

_Dear Gilbert,_ Anne began writing, her wide, looping script beginning to fill up the first line. Anne read those two lone words thrice over before groaning. _Dear Gilbert. _It seemed to formal, somehow, for her to greet her old chum like that. Anne crossed out those two words quickly.

_Gilbert_.

Just a name. It was a sensible greeting—Anne was sure that she had greeted him with simply his name thousands of times. With a sigh, Anne told herself that just Gilbert's name would suffice for a nice, chummy greeting.

_New Year's is approaching, and as the last days of 1885 loom before me, I can't help but feel as though ringing in the New Year isn't complete without your presence. This is terribly selfish of me, I know, but I felt that I must write you. You weren't in Avonlea for one long, terribly dreadful summer, and now the shine and glimmer of the New Year has become dull with your absence. _

_ The last time we spoke wasn't a joyous occasion; not in the least. And the joy that comes with the New Year has somehow decreased because of that chilly April morning. And the truth is, Gilbert, that things have not been the same without your friendship. You were a great friend to me, and the many New Years that we've spent together as great friends are unforgettably etched in my mind. _

Anne desperately wanted Gilbert to understand the message she was trying to get across. She stressed the word 'friend' as many times as she possibly could, hoping that, perhaps, Gilbert would get the hint.

_I feel as though I have done you a great disservice, and I feel it especially with the frosty looks your dearest mother gives me when our paths cross on the street. I cannot tell you how sorry I am about everything that's happened, and I would do anything to have your comradeship back, Gilbert._

_ Everything that has happened between us is my fault, and I feel that acutely. Another thing that I feel is that you're staying away from Avonlea because of me. I can't let you do that, Gilbert, because this is your home, too. Your mother misses you, your father misses you, your friends miss you—and I include myself in the latter group, as well._

_ I am writing this letter to implore you—no, beg you—to return to Avonlea. It simply isn't the same here—nor is the New Year going to be the same—without you here. I am not alone in thinking this, either. Next summer, return to Avonlea. Your presence will be welcomed with opened arms._

_Your friend,_

_Anne Shirley_

Anne read and reread her letter, editing it meticulously and then proceeding to stare at it with scrutinizing grey eyes. Her hand reached for the envelope, pausing slightly over it. Could she really send this letter to Gilbert, with whom she hadn't even had a proper conversation since April? And—the most daunting, terrifying question of all—would Gilbert even want her letter? Or would he simply set it aside, never to open it?

"Anne?" Marilla called, her voice wafting up the stairs, towards Anne's room. "Supper's ready. Would you mind getting Davy? I can't believe that boy is ten years old already, and still getting into the same mischief he always has."

Anne only half-listened. Her mind was still on that intimidating letter, glaring at her from beneath her hooded eyes. Absently, she told Marilla, "Of course," before turning back to her letter.

"I would despise myself forever if I didn't send this letter," Anne told herself, her voice quiet and pensive. "But I know if I did send it, I would regret it immediately, and try foolishly to get it back. By then it would already be in Gilbert's hands."

Anne sighed; who was she trying to kid. She had known the moment she had set her pencil to paper that she would never actually _send_ the letter. Still, writing it had brought her greater solace than she thought it would.

With a greater determination than before, Anne took the paper and pulled it forcefully, ripping it in two. She watched as it cascaded from her hands and into the tiny wastebasket below, its contents never to be read by anyone but her.

Anne went downstairs to fetch Davy; he was in the cellar, playing an imaginative game where he was a scalawag pirate from a distant land, living in the days of yore. Anne almost felt sorry that she had to disturb his imaginative mischief, but she did so anyone.

After dinner, Anne returned to her room. She saw the remnants of her unsent lettered, settled in the wastebasket, and suddenly she got the urge to write another letter. Scribbling a few words on a sheet of paper, she had it at the post office in the morning.

**xXx**

Gilbert sank back into the uncomfortable chair. He had a sudden longing to return home, and for the first time, it occurred to him that maybe he should have gone home. When winter break arrived, Gilbert was glad to leave Kingsport and its dreaded memories, and quickly accepted a short job at the Daily News. He hadn't even thought twice about returning to Avonlea, other than that he would dearly miss his wonderful parents.

His mind drifted to Anne, and the painful memories that she had held for him, although she also stood for plenty of good memories, as well. After his rejected proposal, he had sat in his room, thinking of every little thing that had conspired between Anne and he since her arrival in Avonlea. By the end of his tormented analyzing, he concluded that he had, indeed, conjured her affections up—Anne had never really cared for him anymore than she cared for Charlie, or Moody, or any other boy from her school days.

"Gilbert," one of his coworkers said, calling the young Mr. Blythe over to his side. Gilbert walked over, his expression unchanging. He raised his eyebrows, as if to ask 'what?' "You have a letter."

The coworker reached out and handed Gilbert a tiny envelope with his name written on it. Gilbert's eyebrows furrowed; he normally got letters from his mother, and sometimes from Diana, updating him on the latest Avonlea news. She rarely, if ever, mentioned Anne...and yet, he distinctly recognized Anne's handwriting on the surface on the paper.

Gilbert quickly opened the letter, getting a tiny paper cut in his haste. He pulled out the letter, and read the simple sentence written on it.

_Happy New Year, Gilbert._

_Anne._

A smile slowly spread across Gilbert's face as he stared at that one sentence. It wasn't much—it wasn't anything, really. But it meant the world to Gilbert.

**xXx**

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**Author's note: **Ugh okay so I don't really like this chapter, and I haven't reread it so there are probably mistakes in it and if there are _please tell me_! Things have been so crazy lately, really they have. I mentioned a few chapters ago that my school's football team became section champs and are now going to state...I'm pretty involved with the football team so things have been crazy this past week - there was a parade on Saturday (there have been three parades for our team this year! One before our ESPN game, one before out homecoming game, and now this!), and in the middle of all this is finals. Tomorrow is my last days of finals and then I'll be off to Los Angeles to watch my boys play in the state championship game! If you have comcast and live in CA...tune in to DII state championship game 3:30 PM. Also if you have Fox Sports! Anyway, this entire rant is to explain why I haven't updated in days and why I won't be updating for a while!

And before I leave, I just want to say I love you all and thank you all so much for the reviews 3 3 3

**xXx**


	6. 1888

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry it took so long to update this story! I've been incredibly busy lately, especially with school. Thank you all for the reviews during my absence! Anyway, here's the next chapter of Auld Lang Syne! It's set in 1888, right after Anne and Gil's engagement, during Gil's arrival in Avonlea after being away at Med School. Enjoy!

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**Auld Lang Sine**

By Brianna Faye

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— **1888 —**

Anne craned her neck, overcome by a tremendous sense of pain. Trying to sleep the night before had been a horrendous affair, much to Anne's disdain. She had been so overcome with excitement that she tossed restlessly beneath her quilts, finally settling in a position which had been detrimental to the comfort of her slender, white neck.

Still, she turned her neck into positions which pained her excruciatingly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the six o'clock train which was scheduled to be in ten minutes ago. Out of the corner of her bewitching grey-green eyes, Anne spotted the stationmaster staring at her. Almost immediately, she was at his side.

"I'm sorry," she began, clasping her hands together dramatically. The stationmaster's eyes travelled from her intertwined hands up to her freckled face, and upon realizing who the girl was, he smiled kindly. "Is there any way you could tell me exactly _how_ late the train from Charlottetown is?"

The stationmaster's brown eyes twinkled as he chuckled good-heartedly at the young girl's italics. "The train's only been delayed a little. Should be in soon. You kin wait inside, if you like."

The girl's face took on a dreamy, if still determined, face. Anne shook her head solemnly, her eyes staring past the train tracks and towards the skeletal trees. "Oh, no," she told the stationmaster. "I would much rather stay out here. Thank you, though."

The aging stationmaster smiled; he should've known she would want to sit outside, in the fresh air, listening to the sweet songs of the birds hidden in the trees. He remembered an instance, twelve years ago, where that same girl stayed outside because it had _more scope for the imagination._

The man smiled at the young woman, whose red hair seemed to sparkle in the gleaming sunlight. "Alright," he said. "Train should be here soon, but if you git cold, you kin always come and sit inside."

Anne nodded and smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she murmured, her mind more focused on the captivating landscape and the curves of the railroad track—not to mention the fact that the train would be arriving soon—than on the words of the kind stationmaster.

As the stationmaster went inside, Anne took a seat on one of the worn out benches. It was on these benches that she had waited for Matthew to show up; it was at this very train station where she had said goodbye to Marilla and Matthew before going off to Queens; it was at this station where Anne had sat and talked to Gilbert many times, waiting for their train to Charlottetown during their Kingsport days.

Almost instinctively, the fingers on Anne's right hand reached out and touched the fingers of her left. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the comforting smoothness of her obtuse circle of pearls. A tiny smile graced her lips as she remembered Gilbert, and the promise they had made to each other on that faithful September day. And now—now they would finally be spending their first New Years together as an engaged couple, as fiancé and fiancée.

Originally, Gilbert was supposed to arrive in Avonlea on the twenty-third of December, but on the nineteenth he had telephoned to tell Anne that, much to his dismay, he'd had some coursework to finish up before he could leave. Anne understood; she didn't want Gilbert to fall behind anymore than he did. Still, she couldn't help the pang of disappointment that entered her body as she heard him say those word.

Somehow, though, it seemed fitting that Gilbert would arrive on New Year's Eve. Anne could remember every detail of every New Year's Eve or Day they had spent together—but the ones she hadn't spent with him were blurred, never quite clear, because she simply hadn't made the effort to remember them.

Anne's thoughts were broken by a sudden, sharp whistle from the distance. Instantaneously, she was on her feet, her grey eyes searching the tracks for the impending train. She could almost feel Gilbert with her now—he was so close.

She could hear the chugging of the train's engine; the turning of its wheels as they grinded against the steel tracks. Her heart seemed to flip out of her stomach time and time again, but on the outside she tried to remain sangfroid. When the train rounded a corner and came in her vision, however, she lost her coolness, practically jumping up and down in her anticipation and excitement.  
Time seemed to stand still as Anne waited for the train's wheels to stop rolling, as she waited for Gilbert's body to emerge from the cabins. As if he could read her thoughts, Gilbert's face surfaced in one of the frosty windows, a wide, blissful grin spread across his handsome face. And just as soon as his face had appeared, it was gone, slipping past the rows of windows until finally he emerged from the train.

She turned and gazed at him. Her gaze was steady, sweeping, excited, and a feeling of utter love and longing to be off the train overcame him. He silently wondered what she was thinking, although he somehow knew that she was thinking the very same thoughts as he. His old attitude of inadequacy around Anne—particularly during their Kingsport days—had vanished, and in its place remained the blissful feeling of requited love.

He watched her lips part, and his own separated in jubilance as his name graced her lips, calling to him from the station. His body seemed to lurch forward, drawn magnetically, as she spoke with a jubilant, excited tone voice usually reserved for Diana or Marilla. Happiness—wild, unrefined happiness—soaked the air around them.

He stepped off the train with grace, but all of his grace was lost as he dropped his suitcase to the ground and found Anne in his arms.

"Oh, darling," she whispered, her voice choked with tears of joy, "I've missed you entirely too much!"

Anne paused to press a few quick, excited kisses across his stubbled cheek. Gilbert's smile never vanished as he wrapped his arms around her slender, coat-clad waist, pulling her body closer to his. "We're together now," he sighed.

Anne pulled her freckled face away from his, although she kept her arms wrapped firmly around his body. Slowly, pulled up her right hand and pressed it to the side of Gilbert's face. "You look just as I've always imagined you," she told him dreamily. "I was so terribly afraid that you would come back..._changed_ somehow, and you wouldn't be my Gilbert anymore. But you _are_ my Gilbert."

"You needn't have worried, Anne," he told her, leaning down to pick up his light suitcase. "I will always be your Gilbert."

**xXx**

"I had a dreadful time sleeping last night," Anne told Gilbert, her voice happy even while talking of a sore subject. They were in the buggy, driving towards Green Gables; already Anne could smell the plum puffs that Marilla had waiting for the engaged couple. "I suppose I was too overcome with excitement. And there was a nagging doubt in my head that you might telephone sometime during the night to tell me that there wasn't any possible way you could make it to Avonlea. Unwarranted doubts, indeed, but doubts they were."

Gilbert chuckled as he steered the buggy. The horses neighed, their breath visible in the frigid cold, as they trotted along the dirt road. "Nothing could have kept me, Anne-girl."

Anne turned to him, her eyes alight with joy. She echoed a question she had once asked Matthew, many years ago. "Not even wild horses?"

Gilbert's face became amused, the expression of a long-time love that had finally been won never washed off his moonlit face. "Not even wild horses," confirmed Gilbert, a tiny smile toying on his lips.

Anne laughed, causing Gilbert's tiny smile to blossom into a pearly beam. She quickly quieted, changing subjects. "I got a letter from Mrs. Lavendar _Irving_," Anne told Gilbert. "It's the first I've heard from her since I wrote to tell her of our engagement."

Gilbert's smile widened at the warmth in her tone when she said _engagement._

"She wrote to tell me that she'd been awfully busy and hadn't had the time to write back. But she said she was positively overjoyed at our announcement. She even referenced a moment when she told me that you and I were meant each other. At the time, though, I thought her to be absolutely crazy."

"And what do you think now, Anne?"

"Now I know she was right," Anne told him, sighing contentedly. "And I know that I most definitely a silly little girl."

The buggy rounded a corner and soon Green Gables was in view. Although it was dark outside, with only the soft twinkling of the stars as a source of light, the warm, glowing light from inside the house was visible, warming both Anne and Gilbert. But, suddenly, Gilbert slowed the buggy to a stop.

"Why are we stopped, Gilbert?" Anne asked, eyeing the distance between the buggy and Green Gables. "We're almost to Green Gables."

"I just wanted to tell you something before we get to Green Gables."

"Oh." Anne smiled at him; she understood now. "You mean, before we walk inside and Mrs. Lynde bombards you with questions about medical school, and how 'it's sin that they make good young men work so hard, that's what'."

Gilbert chuckled. "Exactly," he told her.

"It's probably for the best," Anne decided, turning her eyes upward to the stars in the sky. "It looks like the New Year already. Happy New Year, Gilbert."

Anne turned her gaze towards Gilbert, her grey eyes meeting his hazel. Gilbert wrapped his harm around Anne, his body heat comforting her. "Happy New Year, Anne-girl."

**xXx**

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Author's Note: **Another note, sorry! I hope you liked the chapter :) I mentioned in the last chapter that I was heading off to LA to watch my school's football team (the Bulldogs) play in the state championship game. Well, we went into the game as the underdogs and came out as the top dogs. We won 48 - 20! It was such a great game, even if it was pouring rain the entire time. Now, our team in No. 1 in California and No. 5 in the nation, and our quarterback has been named MVP, Mr. Football of California, and National Player of the Year! Anyways, it's been almost a month since that game and everyone at school is still really elated about being state champs, even me :)

On another note, I promise that the next update won't take as long, most likely in a week or two. **  
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	7. 1890

**A/N: **I've finally updated! I haven't abandoned this story, and I don't plan on it. Over the past year, my life has become incredibly busy. Even during summer, I had no time to myself! And then a few months ago, my computer - holding all of my stories - crashed! Me, being the idiot that I am, didn't back up any of my files (including this story)and lost _everything_. And so I put my writing on hold. But now I'm almost halfway through my senior year, and I've finished all my college applications and my life is finally beginning to slow down. I miss writing this story so much, and I've already begun planning future chapters.

Also (insert shameless self-promotion here) I've started a new story called _The Season_, based on the Downton Abbey television series. It's a wonderful show (the cinematography, the acting..everything is beautiful) and anyone who hasn't watched it yet should definitely try to if they have the time. It's based around the lives of the Crawleys, British aristocrats, and their servants, starting with the sinking of the Titanic in 1912 and leading up to the end of World War I.

Just a warning, this chapter is extremely mushy. It's set during Anne and Gil's first winter at Four Winds, and it's just...pure fluff. I loved writing it, but it's full of cliches! But I hope you enjoy it anyway. I'd promise an update soon, but last time I promised an update in two weeks...and it's been almost a year -_- But I have been planning it out, and this story is shaping up to be about fifteen chapters of Anne/Gilbert mush.. so sit back, relax, and enjoy!

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**Auld Lang Syne**

—**1890—**

Anne and Gilbert walked home from the lighthouse alone, with only each other and the faint echo of crickets to keep them company. Gilbert's arm was wrapped firmly around Anne's shoulders, keeping her warm on the cold New Year's night. She looked up at him from underneath her red wisps of hair and smiled, causing Gilbert to hold his beloved Anne-girl closer.

"I couldn't think of a lovelier moment," Anne whispered softly. The trees billowed, leafless, around them, casting eerie shadows and blocking the starry night sky. "It's more than I could've ever dreamed."

For once words failed Anne. Her indescribable happiness—a happiness that had yet to vanish since her wedding to Gilbert—simply could not be described. It was odd, wonderful feeling that Anne adored.

"Have I made you very happy, Anne?" queried Gilbert, his breath clouding up the cold air. God only knew how happy she had made him.

"Oh, Gil," Anne whispered, her voice dreamlike. She would, she felt, never get tired of expressing her feelings to him. He was her best friend and her husband—how silly had she been to think that the two could never mix! "You've made me so excruciatingly happy that I'm afraid this is all a dream…that I'll wake up feeling as I did when I found out you were sick. I never—_never_—want to feel that way again. It was as if my whole world had been taken from me."

Gilbert's voice became soft, understanding. "I know the feeling." They both knew the moment he was referencing, but neither spoke of it. "And I hope that you never have to feel that again, Anne."

"I'm positive I won't," Anne told him, her voice sure and steady. Gilbert's smile widened; Anne's own grew to match his. "Not while everything's as perfect as it is now."

The couple fell into a content, blissful silence as they stepped forward onto the tree-line pathway that led to their picture-perfect House of Dreams. It welcomed them like an old friend as they stepped into it, the warm air greeting them. Anne drank the feeling in; the house held the same atmosphere as Green Gables—something she'd thought could never be duplicated.

The New Year had come and gone, floating in and of the old lighthouse. Anne and Gilbert had a delightful evening with their Four Winds friends, but they were grateful that they got to return to their "home 'o dreams" afterwards. Nothing could compare to the heavenly feeling Anne felt as she watched Gilbert—her Gilbert—start a warming fire in their tiny hearth while she sat down on the couch. When the fire burst, engulfing the fireplace in heated flames, Anne placed a sender, contented hand to her stomach. Gilbert turned his attention away from the hearthside, smiling warmly at Anne.

"How are you feeling tonight, Anne-girl?" Gilbert asked, his eyes dancing in the firelight. He picked up one of the quilts Anne had brought from green Gables, draping the patterned cloth over her delicate frame.

Anne smiled, dropping her starry grey gaze to her stomach. "Tired," she answered as a tiny, whimsical smile graced her lips. "But I did have a wonderful time tonight, Gilbert. And it's just lovely to think that while we're out, having a delightful time with our friends, we have this wonderful home to come back to. Tonight, at the light, every so often my mind would wander…thinking about how content I'd be sitting at home with you, and a warm hearth-fire in the background. My life is perfect—absolutely and completely—stunningly and incandescently—perfect."

"As is mine." Gilbert's words were plainer; flowering adjectives and run-on sentences were absent, but his words still held the same great sentiment. Quietly, Gilbert settled onto the couch, next to Anne's loving body.

"This is our first New Year together," Anne commented, her voice light, as Gilbert wrapped his strong arm around her slender shoulder.

Gilbert shook his head. "But it isn't, though." Anne looked up, her red eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "We were together your first New Year's here—we sat underneath the Snow Queen together. Don't you remember?"

The memory quickly flooded back into Anne's mind—how could she forget? "Oh, yes," she said, "at Marilla and Matthew's party. Of course I remember, Gilbert."

"And I kissed you," he continued, the corners of his lips dancing upwards as he recalled the memory. Anne blushed, remembering how embarrassed she'd been over the whole ordeal. "I was a brave lad, especially after the torture you made me endure that year."

"You may have been brave," concurred Anne, "but _I_ was stubborn. That's far worse."

"Yet it's one of the many things I love about you." Gilbert's voice was sweet, soft. "You wouldn't be Anne if you weren't stubborn."

Anne sighed, remembering the days gone by. "I admire your patience."

Gilbert nodded. His patience had been rewarded—Anne was sitting by his side as his wife. "What about the year that Billy Andrews proposed to you?"

"How could I forget!" Anne exclaimed. She hadn't thought of it in years, yet she still felt the sting of wounded pride when Jane had told her that Billy would propose to Nettie Blewett if Anne denied him. "I've not spoken of that since it happened—since I told you."

"Nor I have. I kept my promise—I've never told anyone."

"Oh, Gilbert…do you remember the New Year's that we were apart?" Anne felt an aching in her heart as she remembered that year. "You remained in Kingsport and I wrote you a letter…I should've known then—as I stared at Roy's roses and thought of _you_ instead—that I could never be with Roy. Do you remember that letter?"

"That letter…at the time—it meant everything to me, Anne," Gilbert finally finished, standing up as he did so. "I'll be right back."

Anne stared, nonplussed, as she watched her husband retreat into their room. A few moments later, he returned, a small piece of paper in his hands. Anne squinted, attempting to see what it was, but her attempts were futile.

Gilbert held the folded up paper in front of Anne. She saw that its edges were warped and yellow with age…and she also saw her handwriting on it. Could it really be…? "Gil," she whispered, gently taking it from his hands.

"_Happy New Year, Gilbert_," the letter read, Anne's familiar handwriting staring back at her.

She stared up at him, not quite sure of what to say. And then—"You've kept this letter all these years?"

Gilbert took a seat next to her, the weight of his body pressing down on the plush couch cushions. "Of course I did." Gilbert's words were soft, full of love. Anne couldn't resist the tiny smile that her lips created. "I told you, Anne, that letter meant the world to me. It gave me hope when I thought all hope was gone."

Gilbert thought he saw a tear drop from the corner of Anne's eye. He'd never seen her cry before—it was mysterious and beautiful all at once. "We've a simple love story, Anne-of-mine," Gilbert told her softly. "But it's a love story. And that's all that matters."

Anne looked up at him, her tears gone. "It's greater than anything I've ever read. It'll be a great story to tell our child."

Gilbert nodded, his smile still in place—until Anne's words hit him with full force. He was struck dumb, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Our…child?" He had finally pieced the words together.

Anne nodded her red head, a jovial smile crossing her face. She'd been waiting for the right time to tell Gilbert—she couldn't think of a more perfect one than that moment. "I'm with child, Gil."

Gilbert's head was spinning. He'd never imagined he'd be hit with such news on a night like the one at present. Slowly, a wide smile spread across his face—he looked suddenly boyish again. Anne reveled in his happiness. A quiet settled around them as Anne let Gilbert processed the news. After a few moments, Anne asked, "What are you thinking about, Gilbert?"

Gilbert's steady hazel eyes met Anne's; in them, she could see a kind of happiness she'd never seen before. It was _fatherly_. "If she's a girl," Gil began slowly, "I want her to have red hair."

"Red hair!" exclaimed Anne, surprise evident in her voice. "But—why!"

"I happen to be very fond of red hair," Gilbert replied smugly.

Anne laughed, her voice echoing off the papered walls of their little home. "Well, I want her—or him—to have perfectly beautiful nut-brown hair, so they won't have to endure years of insecurity and teasing."

"You've always been dramatic about hair," Gilbert said, resigned. "But I also want our girl to have your brains and your ambition. Being smart is much better than being pretty."

"After all these years," Anne said, sighing. "I think I've finally realized that. But I've also resigned myself to red hair and freckles for the rest of my life."

Gilbert shook his head playfully. "I can't believe we're having a child, Anne. It seems only yesterday that we were children, and you were crushing my candied hears underneath the heel of your boots. Oh, I tried so hard to win your affections."

"And I was a perfectly cruel child," Anne replied, reminiscing once more. "Although at the time, I thought I serving justice for my scorned pride. I hope our child doesn't get my temper. It got me into an excruciating amount of trouble when I was younger."

"We can only pray that our child gets the best of both of us."

Anne smiled, placing a hand on her stomach once more. Gilbert followed, placing his brawny hand atop hers. "It's been a wonderful New Year's," she commented, gazing down at her stomach. "One of the best yet."

"It has," agreed Gilbert. "Happy New Year, Anne Blythe."

Anne gazed into his eyes, seeing her own happiness reflected in his. "Happy New Year, Gilbert."

Gilbert leaned down, his brown hair brushing against Anne's body as his face reached her stomach. He smiled, and then said, "Happy New Year, little one."

**xxx**

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**A/N**: And that was it! I hope you enjoyed it...please give me your thoughts and review! xx


	8. 1892

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews last chapter! It struck me that there were still people reading this story, even though I didn't update for ions. I can't believe it's been a year since I started this story - it literally seems like just yesterday! Anyway, I thought an update was due for L.M. Montgomery's 137th birthday :D I really, really like writing this chapter - especially Susan. Enjoy!

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**Auld Lang Syne**

—**1892—**

"A wedding on New Year's Eve," said Anne, sighing longingly. "How romantic, Susan. And Leslie deserves the most glorious, romantic wedding. She's brightened up so since Dick Moore recovered his memory—everything's fallen into its rightful place, wouldn't you say, Susan?"

"I would," agreed Susan, albeit reluctantly. "But I would never get married in January."

Anne chuckled. Susan was such a dear. "But it's not January yet, Susan. It's still December. There's such a difference between January and December…it's startling."

Susan harrumphed, picking little Jem up from his cradle and supporting him gently in the crevice of her arm. "Even so, I'd much rather get married in the summer. When were you and the doctor married, Mrs. Dr. Dear?"

Anne's gaze turned upwards, starry-eyed, as she remembered. "It was a wonderful September day, Susan. Oh, it seems like yesterday. We were engaged in September and then married in September, three years later."

"People like you and Leslie," concluded Susan with a solemn nod of her head, "are predestined to be married. Women like, on the contrary, have been predestined to spend their lives alone. I'm not complaining, Mrs. Doctor, dear—no, most _certainly_ not—for I'll follow any path He makes for me."

Anne nodded, the warm lighting bouncing off her auburn hair. "And it's so wonderful to think of the paths He has waiting for us," added Anne, her voice dreamy. "Ten years ago I would've never dreamed that I would be here, but I'm absolutely delighted that I am."

"I suppose Leslie never dreamed that she would ever escape Dick Moore."

Anne shook her head ruefully. "I'm positive that she never did. How tragic she used to be, Susan! Which is why it's so fitting that she's now getting her happy ending—Owen's wonderful."

"I've no doubt, Mrs. Doctor, dear," agreed Susan, placing Jem back down into his wooden crib. "I've got to check on my pies," she announced, rubbing her hands against her apron. "I'll be right back."

xxx

The cool, salty breeze swept across the beach, christening the attendees with goosebumps. The small crowd didn't seem mind; they'd all come together on that chilling December afternoon to see their beloved Leslie achieve the happiness she so rightfully deserved. Anne rejoiced in it—it seemed fitting somehow, to have the wedding at the lighthouse. Anne could feel Captain Jim's spirit around every corner—haunting the lighthouse with his good-hearted nature and cheery laugh.

It was to be a simple wedding; Leslie and Owen had opted to walk themselves down the aisle, without the pomp and blare of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Ten chairs were scattered along the sandy coastline, just enough for the guests. Anne took her seat, cradling little Jem in her arms.

"Oh, Gilbert," she said, turning her attention from her little one to her husband, "are you _positive_ that Jem will be alright in this breeze?"

Gilbert chuckled, glancing down at his son, who had been bundled up from head to toe in several wool blankets. He could barely begin to tell where the blankets ended and his son began. "He'll be fine, Anne-girl," Gilbert reassured as he squeezed her shoulder tenderly. "He's got the Blythe constitution in his favor. And I'm sure no harm can come to him while he's wrapped in your arms."

Anne smiled, looking down lovingly at her young son. His eyelids were shut while he slept peacefully, hiding the frank hazel eyes that he had gotten from his father. "He's an angel," whispered Anne. Gilbert smiled proudly as he gazed upon his two favorite people. He couldn't imagine anything more perfect than their little family.

Anne's head rose once more as Leslie appeared, a vision in ivory. Every aspect and detail of her wedding to Owen was modest, yet it was beautiful in its simplicity. Anne thought it could rival her own in its glory, as the love-light in Owen's joyful eyes mirrored the sentiment she had found in Gilbert's at their wedding. Stray tears fell from Anne's grey eyes, dropping onto the white blankets protecting Jem.

Gilbert noticed his wife's waterworks, and quickly handed a handkerchief over to her. Her slender hands took it, pleased, before she dabbed it her face. _Thank you_, she mouthed silently, gratefully to her husband.

Leslie and Owen Ford were married underneath the sheath of clouds covering the sand swept beach of Four Winds. When Anne would recount the story of the wedding to others, she would say that clouds were the spirit on Captain Jim, giving his blessing to Owen and Leslie.

As Leslie and Owen walked down the aisle, finally joined together, they graced the Blythes with indebted smiles; they both thought, in the back of their minds, that without the Blythes, they never would've had the opportunity to walk down the aisle in the first place.

The reception was held at the House of Dreams, the Fords' new residence. Anne, at first, had been reluctant to leave her perfect little House of Dreams, but she'd found a larger, more suitable home in the old Morgan house—now aptly named Ingleside.

Susan's pies were very popular among the small group of people who attended the reception. Susan could be found sitting smugly in the parlor, perhaps more joyful than the bride, and beaming with pride. _Who needs a husband when one's pies are the prize of Prince Edward Island?_ she thought to herself, the voice in her head containing a hint of pride.

Anne strode across the parlor, her gait as blithe as her name, towards Leslie. She kissed the new bride's cheek as she approached her, and said, "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Leslie. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Anne," responded Leslie softly. Her gaze turned towards the opposite end of the quaint parlor, falling upon Gilbert. He was holding little Jem in his arms, his masculinity mixing with his paternal instincts. "I hope Owen and I can one day have what you and Gilbert have."

A mystified look appeared on Anne's porcelain face, silently imploring Leslie to continue. "I hope we'll have the family that you and Gilbert have," Leslie reiterated quickly.

Anne smiled, placing her slender hand on Leslie's shoulder. "You needn't worry, dear," she reassured. "What's meant to be will happen."

xxx

Anne laid down on the bed, her long, white nightgown draping over the mattress. Gilbert was standing up, towering over Jem's tiny crib as he tucked his beloved son into bed. "He really is a miracle child, Anne," announced the young doctor, his voice low to keep from disturbing the baby. "He never cries, he's not colicky—and he's _ours_."

"He's a wonderful child," agreed Anne readily. Gilbert nodded his brown head, lightly picking up the old, thick quilt so he could easily slide in, next to Anne. "I'd never dreamed—not after Joyce…when I'd found out I was pregnant again, I wept out of joy and out of despair…and I hope so desperately for another girl—one I could name Diana. But when Jem came, I was exceedingly thankful that he was a strong, sturdy boy. I wouldn't one thing about our little James Matthew, Gil. Not one thing."

"Not even his red hair?" Gilbert remarked jokingly, referring to the small, red tufts of hair that were beginning to grow on their son's otherwise bald head.

Anne chuckled, her laughter light. Her red head swished up and down in the affirmative as she answered. "No, not even that. Although I did wish vehemently that I would not curse any of our children with the plight of red hair. But I suppose the curse won't be as dreadful for a boy."

"I think your imagination made up that curse, Anne," Gilbert told his wife. "I always thought your red hair was very attractive, and I wasn't the only one."

Anne's eyebrows perked up, midway to her hairline. "Oh?" she questioned, her voice teasingly inquisitive. "Who else? I'll never forget the day Mrs. Lynde said I was terribly homely—something which directly attribute to my red hair."

"Calling you home is equal to calling Helen of Troy ugly," reprimanded Gilbert. After years of hearing Anne audibly bemoan the color of her hair, Gil had learned that she would never agree with his viewpoints. Although she would occasionally acquiesce and admit that her hair had turned into a striking shade of auburn. "Charlie Sloane thought so, as well. Remember, he wrote your name with under 'Take Notice'."

Anne sniffed reproachfully. "A Sloane hardly counts."

Gilbert laughed gaily—for all of Anne's past vanity, she was becoming increasingly modest as she grew older. "Well, what about Billy Andrews? And I knew quite a few Redmond boys who wouldn't have minded taking my place by your side—even if we were only friends. And how could we forget Roy Gardner? He probably wrote poetry to your red hair while he sat at the fireside."

Anne crossed her arms across her chest defensively. "Gilbert Blythe!" she reprimanded; she abhorred when she brought her past mistakes—Roy Gardner in particular. Perhaps it was because she still felt guilty for leading him on as she did, but Anne didn't wish to dwell on the subject. "I can assure you that he never called me carrots, though!"

"It's a term of endearment, Anne-o-mine," argued the carrot-head's adoring husband.

"I'm positive that Owen never teases Leslie so mercilessly," the redhead harrumphed.

Gilbert shook his head. "No…but Leslie and Owen's relationship wasn't built upon a mistaken tease. _Ours_ was."

"But Leslie and Owen did have a lovely wedding, didn't they?" Anne inquired, sighing.

"It was," Gilbert agreed, nodding his head slightly. However, his mind was saying the exact opposite—for no wedding could ever be as lovely or as glorious as the day he saw Anne walking down the aisle and extending her delicate arm towards him.

"Leslie's longing for a child," Anne confided in Gilbert. "She thinks she's been blessed too much…that something bad has to happen now."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be long before they start a family," hypothesized Gilbert.

"I do hope their child will be bosom friends with ours," Anne told him, smiling wistfully as she remembered the day she met Diana. "Life is so much better when you have a real, fleshed-out bosom friends, and you haven't had to imagine any."

"Well, you haven't had to imagine me," reassured Gilbert. Glancing at the clock, he said, "Well, it's late. I suppose the old married couple should go to sleep, now?"

Anne chuckled, sliding underneath the warm quilt, listening as Gilbert leaned over and turned off the only lamp lighting their room. They both said their loving goodnights before Gilbert fell into a quiet slumber.

Anne tried to sleep, but it was futile. She was enveloped in a fitful restlessness, turning around and back again before she finally found comfort.

Suddenly, her grey eyes shot open, dilating to adjust to the darkness. "Gilbert!" she whispered abruptly. "Gil, wake up!"

He awoke, his groggy eyes peeking at her from underneath their resting eyelids. "Wha—?"

"I forgot to say happy New Year," Anne admitted, her voice sheepish. "Happy New Year, husband."

Gilbert laughed, his chuckles muted with drowsiness. "Happy New Year, Anne girl."

xxx

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**A/N:** If you've spotted any mistakes, leave a review and let me know! And I'd also love to hear your opinion :) The next chapter is going to take a huge jump in time, about ten years, because I want to write their children! I feel like this grown up, wishing-each-other-happy-new-year-in-the-bed is getting repetitive. Also, I've started a new blog - "Avonlea Vignettes" - dedicated to the Anne of Green Gables books and various movie adaptations. You can visit it here:

http:/avonleavignettes[.]tumblr[.]com/


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